“Hey, up there. Hello?

Can I have your attention?

I’m coming from the other side:

The side of life you are a part of

Yet so far apart from.

I sense reality as it is —

Without those messy questions

Your intellect poses,

Those limiting “supposes”

Always purporting

as if you knew.

Guess what?

You don’t know.

I was created and never question it.

You question whether

You were created

Or just happen to be

A scientific spasm

Randomly spurted out

Like a mushroom from

A rotted log . . . or

If you happen to be graced,

The creator touches you

With a soulful search.

Then “why” and wonder

Becomes your nature,

Restless wandering your fate.

Silly humans or

Sacred beings,

Never quite believing bodies,

Or finally saved souls.

I’ll take my feelers over yours

Every time.

My peace never incomplete . . .

Yours forever dependent,

Mysteriously flailing and fragile,

Questioning to the end.

That’s it. Isn’t it?

Goodbye.”